


Lights Will Guide You Home

by AngelOfLorien



Category: Warrior (2011)
Genre: Abandonment, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempted Sexual Assault, Drama & Romance, F/M, Friendship/Love, I Don't Even Know, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Past Abuse, Psychological Trauma, What Was I Thinking?, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:48:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24034570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelOfLorien/pseuds/AngelOfLorien
Summary: Old friends. Old memories. Different lives. Different tragedies. Tommy finds peace.
Relationships: Tommy Conlon/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the title is lyrics from "Fix You" by Coldplay.   
> Yes, I realize it's lame.   
> No, it doesn't bother me.

_**“The most miserable outcast hugs some memory or illusion.” ~ Joseph Conrad**_  


Tommy Conlon was coming home.

News of the local hero-turned-criminal hit the neighborhood and spread like fire. The punishment for deserting his unit was fairly light, all things considered—dishonorable discharge, loss of payments and benefits, and only eighteen months detention. He’d been ordered to attend weekly meetings with a shrink, not that anybody expected he’d say much.

Cyn’s regulars at Nolan Diner loved the thrill of new gossip. And Tommy Conlon…well, you couldn’t get much more thrilling than that.

“That Tommy, he used to be a good kid,” Mr. Hoover said. “Helluva lot better than you’d think, living with Paddy when he was in his cups. Now he’s sober, maybe him and his boys can make amends. Maybe that’s why Tommy’s moving back.

Mr. Latham scoffed. “You seen him and Paddy during that fight ordeal? Jesus God, you’d think they was strangers. And Brendan? Forget it. Never in a million years he’d forgive his father.”

Hoover eyed Cyn speculatively, but she kept quiet as she topped off his coffee. “You used to run with the Conlons, didn’t you, Cyn?”

“A million years ago,” she said absently.

“Close to Tommy, if I remember. Dated, didn’t you?” He sipped his coffee, looking nonchalant.

“Don’t drag me into this,” she said, shaking her head. “The Conlons aren’t my business. Yours either,” she added with a reproachful arch of her brow.

“But the boy’s practically a celebrity,” he insisted. “Could be good for the place if you got him to be one of them…whattayacallit…spokesmen or whatever.”

“You nuts?” Latham said. “The guy’s a psycho! Did you see his eyes?” He waved his fingers in front of his face. “Nothing there. He’s an animal. You’d do better to keep him clear of this place,” he said to Cyn. “You don’t want that kinda publicity.”

“I don’t want any kind of publicity. I do just fine with this place without it turning into an even bigger gossip mill.”

Hoover frowned. “So you’re not giving the boy a job then?”

She looked at him, surprised. “Why would I?”

“Because you got that, uh, thingamajig with your uncle,” he said.

“What? What thingamajig?”

The two old men glanced at each other before Latham leaned forward. “Chuck signed Conlon up to stay in the apartment upstairs and work in the diner as part of that community correction thing he runs. You mean he hasn’t mentioned any of this to you?”

Cyn sighed and sat the coffee pot back on the burner. “No, he hasn’t. How do you know about it?”

Hoover answered, eager to jump in. “Chucky was out at the park yesterday, said we’d be seeing Tommy Conlon around the place. I asks him what for, and he says that he’ll be working around the diner and rooming in the attic, on account of him being a new release and needing a job.”

“Lori!” Cyn called, reaching back to untie her apron. A young blonde stuck her head around the corner. “Watch the counter, will you? I need to go make a call. Table four is waiting on their scrapple, but it should be out in a sec.”

She tossed her apron on the shelf in the kitchen and went out the back door into the alley, pulling her cell phone out of the back pocket of her shorts.

Chuck answered on the first ring. “I was just getting ready to call you, kiddo.”

“What’s this Mr. Hoover’s saying about you letting out the extra room above my diner to Tommy Conlon?”

“First of all, it’s not your diner yet. I still own rights until I kick the bucket. Second, I didn’t let the room. I’m renting him the whole apartment.”

“I live in the apartment.”

Chuck was quiet a beat. “What happened to the place over on Kisbaugh?”

“The landlord jacked up my rent. Figured since I come in at 4:30 every morning anyway, might as well clean up the loft and just stay there a while.”

“Wish you woulda told me,” he said. 

“Why the favors for the Conlon? What’s in it for you?”

“You act like I’m some sort of con man,” Chuck said accusingly. “Look, the kid’s fresh out after more than a year, and with the mental stuff he needs an adjustment period. That’s what the program’s for, ya know?”

Cyn placed a hand on her hip. “And out of all the connections you got, why get him placed here? You were in L.A. for decades, and this is the best you could do?”

“You saw him fight. The photographers loved him. There’s not a fight fan in the Burgh who didn’t see those boys. Those people come in, they order food, they talk…the diner stays open and we actually make a little bit of a profit from now on.”

“We do just fine. Besides, Tommy’s not some albino unicorn that people are gonna rush to get a glimpse of.”

“So maybe they don’t. Maybe you just get a short-order cook who’ll work whatever hours you need for at least three months. Either way, it’s a win-win.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re abusing your power, Chuck.”

“It’s not like I’m throwing the kid to the dogs. He’s not gonna be pulling twenty-hour shifts at the steel mill. You’re quiet and you mind your own business. He’ll be tucked safely in the back, away from the crowd. If you’d bothered telling me you were living above the diner I coulda made other living arrangements, but the paperwork’s already gone through.”

“So when’s he coming?”

“Friday.”

“Friday? Day-after-tomorrow Friday? You were going to call me today about Tommy Conlon moving into my house—“

“It’s not your house—“

“—in two days?” Cyn curled her fingers into claws and mimed choking her uncle. Since he wasn’t in grabbing distance, she heaved a breath in frustration and idly kicked the side of the garbage can with the toe of her shoe. “Can we just make a unanimous decision right now that if anything like this ever comes up that you will consult me before you tell a stranger he can move into my place of residence?”

“Hey, you didn’t tell me you’d moved,” he reminded her. “And it’s not like you didn’t go to school together as kids. I remember your mom talking about you and the boys on the block.”

“Yeah, and then he moved away and grew up.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Chuck, just…just don’t do anything like this again without talking to me first, okay? I mean, I’m talking as manager. I need to know if I’m getting a new employee.”

“Will do.”

“I guess I’ll talk to you Friday?”

“I’ll bring Tommy around 4 so’s you can show him the ropes. He says he’s worked short-order before.”

“Ok. I’ll get the paperwork filled out before you get here.”

\--

Thursday and Friday came and went, and before Cyn knew it, Chuck was at the counter introducing Tommy Conlon to Lori.

She came out of the kitchen, sticking a pen through the messy bun on top of her head. A few orange curls had, of course, sprung from their confines and tickled her cheeks, but she tucked them behind her ears as she approached the counter. Tommy stood quietly to the side and offered Lori a mannerly handshake but looked exceedingly uncomfortable with all the eyes in the restaurant looking at him.  
He looked better than he had when he’d been in a couple of times with Paddy, not so hollow and edgy. He hadn’t shown any sign then that he remembered her—of course, it had been over fifteen years since they’d spoken. She’d been an awkward, chubby, carrot-topped teen last time he’d seen her.

Cyn dried her hands on her apron and approached her new cook with a smile. “Hey, Tommy.” She stuck out her hand and he shook it, his lips quirking up in a brief, polite smile. “Are you ready to get started?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Her smile widened. “No need to be so formal. Cyn’s fine.”

Recognition lit his eyes at last. “Cynthia Nolan,” he said quietly. “Been a long time.” 

“Yeah, it has.”

“Didn’t recognize you. Should’ve,” he added, glancing at her hair with another small smile. “You look good.”

“You too,” she said, feeling her cheeks heat. She’d never been good with compliments. “Um, come with me and I’ll show you the apartment.” 

He lifted the hinged counter top and followed her to the back and through the kitchen, moving soundlessly. Cyn could feel his heat at her back as they went down the narrow hallway and moved into the stairwell. The stairs creaked under their weight.

“There’s a kitchenette through there,” she said as they entered the living quarters. “Bathroom’s that way, and you’re room is up here,” she said, opening the door to the attic and going up the short flight of steps. “It’s small and I apologize. I didn’t really have a lot of time to—“

“It’s fine,” Tommy interrupted. “I don’t need much room.” He lifted one shoulder, either in a shrug or to adjust his back, Cyn wasn’t sure which. “I got used to close quarters.”

She winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up prison.”

“Actually I was talking about living in barracks.” An awkward pause stretched out between them. Tommy shifted his pack again.

“Oh, um…here, let me just…” Cyn stepped back and aside to let him pass so that he could put his bag down. The area at the end of the stairwell was cramped, and Tommy brushed against her as he passed.

“Sorry.”

“No problem. Okay, um, I guess whenever you get unpacked and whatever, just come downstairs and either Lori or I will show you around the kitchen. There’s not much to it. Mostly people just order burgers or breakfast. Chuck said you’ve worked in a restaurant before?”

He nodded.

“Great. Okay. So…yeah. I’ll just…” She pointed over her shoulder and turned to go back downstairs. She was about halfway down when she heard him say her name. She stopped and looked back up at him.

“I appreciate it.”

She gave a soft smile. “You’re welcome, Tommy.” She turned and took another step before stopping again. She debated with herself before turning her face so that her voice carried up the stairwell. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

As expected, he didn’t respond. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: attempted assault and reference to past assault mentioned in this chapter.

“Table two’s to-go,” Tommy said from the window. Cyn looked over, but he’d already gone back to start cleaning the grill. She delivered the order and returned to wiping down the counter.  
“How's he doing?”  
She glanced at Chuck, who sat at the counter sipping his coffee. “Pretty good. He doesn't say much. Keeps up with orders, though, and is nice enough when we go to bed. When we close and go upstairs,” she amended when Chuck strangled on his coffee.  
When he’d regained his composure, he sat the cup down and stood. “Yeah, well…shrink says he needs time to make progress, but fact is, kiddo, if he doesn’t get good reports at the end of his ninety days, he might go back into lockup.”  
“He doesn’t need to be in lockup,” Cyn said. “He’s a good guy, Chuck. He’s just…he’s in a dark place. He’s only been out a few weeks. He’ll come around.”  
“Anything happened I need to know about?” Chuck asked. “Fights? Meltdowns or anything?”  
She pinned him with a glower.  
He held up his hands. “Okay, okay. I was just askin’.” He sighed. “I hope he can pull it together enough to make a good impression for the review board,” he said quietly as he tugged his Steelers cap down low and tossed a fiver on the counter. “See ya tomorrow, kiddo.”  
“Night, Chuck.” She gathered up her uncle’s dirties and hummed to herself as she wiped the counter. There were only two other customers at a booth in the back, and she smiled as she topped off their coffees. “Closing up in about ten, fellas.”  
“You got a sweet smile,” one of the men said. “Anybody ever tell you that?”  
“A time or two,” she said. She was used to the occasional flirt from someone around the neighborhood, but these boys weren’t regulars. She’d never seen them before, and she’d learned a long time ago to be wary of outsiders.  
With a polite nod, she started to walk away, but was tugged back. She glanced down at the hand firmly fixed to her apron.  
“No need to rush off,” the man said. “Not like there’s a big crowd. Here, sit.” He slid over in the booth, gave her apron another tug.  
“Thanks,” she said, dislodging his grip, “but I’ve got to do my closing duties.” She made a show of checking her watch. “Five minutes, guys.”  
She didn’t give them any more attention, went about her closing as normal. The strangers left and she bussed their table, whistling as she went. She sat the tub in the sink and stepped back as Tommy started washing. The spray misted her face. She chuckled and wiped drops from her cheeks.  
“Sorry,” he murmured.  
“It’s ok,” she said, waving dismissively. She hefted the trash from the bins and combined the bags, tying it securely. “Be right back.”  
“Prop the door,” he reminded her.  
“Ah. Thanks,” she said, sliding the door brick into position. She walked to the Dumpster, slowing when two figures moved into the mouth of the alley.  
“Need a hand, sweetheart?”  
She recognized the voice—the stranger from the diner. “I got it,” she called. “Thanks, though.”  
The garbage bag left her hand easily as she tossed it into the bin, helped along by the sweat slicking her palms. It went against every instinct she had, but she turned her back on the two and headed for the kitchen door. She could see the light spilling onto the cracked pavement. She moved faster.  
Almost there…almost there…  
A hand clamped over her mouth and she screamed, the sound muffled by the palm pressing her lips onto her teeth. She grunted in pain as she was slammed against the bricks and coffee-and-cigarettes breath all but smothered her.  
“I think I’d like some dessert,” the man said. He pinned her to the wall with his hips and she breathed hard through her nose, struggling. She stomped on his instep with the heel of her sneaker, and his grip loosened for a split-second.  
“Tom—” She cried out when the stranger punched her in the ribs. His companion paced nearby, searching the alley for any sign of another person.  
“Hey, somebody probably heard that, man.” He slapped his friend’s shoulder. “Let’s go!”  
“Nah. Not ‘til this bitch learns to be a little nicer, hm?” He gripped her hip with his free hand and tucked her tighter to him.  
The second man backed away, hands in the air. “Fuck this, man. I’m out,” he said before running down the alleyway.  
Cyn clawed at her attacker’s face, trying to get at his eyes. There wasn’t room to get leverage to hit him hard enough for him to let go, but she tried anyway. She cried out against the smothering hand when her elbow banged against the brick, but she didn’t stop fighting. She wouldn’t, not this time.  
The kitchen door squeaked open and light spilled into the alley. “Cyn? You still out here?”  
She bit the man’s hand hard and pushed past him when he jerked away from her with a curse. “Tommy!”  
“What’s—” The question died when she rushed at him. He caught her, met her panicked gaze. In the briefest of seconds, the concern and confusion in his expression dried up, and in its stead was cold, murderous rage. He turned his attention to the other man.  
The stranger glanced over his shoulder and began backing toward the Dumpster. “Me and the girl, we just had us a misunderstanding, ya know? Signals might’ve got a little crossed. Shit happens, am I right?”  
Tommy started forward, stalking his target like they might’ve been in the octagon. The stranger changed tactics and addressed Cyn directly.  
“Look, lady, I’m sorry, ya know? I was just tryin’ to—shit, I dunno. Scare ya. I wasn’t gonna do nothing.” When she didn’t intervene, he turned and started running. Tommy caught him easily and tackled him to the dirty pavement.  
Cyn watched the fight longer than she should have, letting Tommy beat the man unhindered for a few moments. He took a couple of good hits himself—the guy was undoubtedly a brawler—but in the end, any fighting on the stranger’s part was moot. When it was clear that Tommy wasn’t going to let up, Cyn grabbed at the back of his shirt.  
“Tommy, he’s done. That’s enough!”  
Tommy put the guy in an arm bar. The hollow pop and subsequent yelps of pain made Cyn’s stomach cold. He took a knee in the center of the guy’s spine and bent close to his head, smashing his cheek into the grit.  
“I ever see you around here—I ever see you anywhere in this fuckin’ neighborhood—you might as well make peace with Jesus, asshole, you understand me?”  
The guy was babbling, and when Tommy finally shoved off him and stormed back toward the diner, dragging Cyn with him, the stranger was quick to roll to his feet and hobble in the opposite direction.  
–  
Tommy paced the length of the kitchen, eyes wild, bloody fists clenching and unclenching. His breath came in ragged pants, and she waited for the explosion that was bound to come, her anxiety ratcheting up every time he turned and walked toward her. After a couple minutes, he stopped his pacing and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, his expression wasn’t so feral. He snatched a towel from the stand and went to the ice machine.  
Clutching her ribs where the attacker had punched her, Cyn sagged against the door, turning into it and resting her forehead against the cool metal. She willed her legs to steady, hating the shaky trembles that were still radiating through her muscles. Too many memories, too many things dredged to the surface that she’d been so careful to keep buried.  
Tommy returned with a makeshift icepack and turned her to face him. He fingered the hem of her shirt, silently asking permission. She lifted it, wincing at the pull in her side. She glanced down, sighing at the already purpling bruises dotting her skin. He pressed the ice pack to her and she gasped, closing her hand over his.  
“Hurt?”  
She offered a crooked smile. “Cold.”  
He braced his palm next to her head on the door, and instead of feeling uneasy at his closeness, she felt comfort. She watched him silently as he lifted the edge of the ice pack, frowned, and pressed it back down.  
“Gonna have a helluva bruise tomorrow.”  
She nodded. They were both quiet for a few moments, the hum of the freezer the only sound in the kitchen. Cyn grew antsy and fidgeted with the little bead bracelet that adorned her left wrist.  
“I’m sorry.”  
His brows creased even more as his frown deepened. “For what?”  
“He could file assault charges against—”  
“He’s not gonna do that.” He lifted the towel again, seeming a little more satisfied with what he saw. He straightened and tossed the wet towel in the sink. “Can’t say nothing about me without saying what he was doing in that alley. Hey,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. When she met his eyes, he looked at her hard. “You ok?”  
Cyn nodded. “Yeah. Just…just a lot of shit bouncing around in my head, ya know?” His gaze was assessing, and she got the feeling he knew she was hedging. “What?”  
“You ain’t falling apart like a lot of people would be, not talking about calling the cops or anything—”  
“What would a police report do other than get you in shit, probably, and up the statistics of metropolitan crime?” She ducked under his arm and went to wash her hands. “I didn’t get raped, I didn’t get murdered. Some people just feel the need to hurt others. It’s the way of the world. This isn’t my first dance to this tune, ya know?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I mean it took a year to track down Chuck after my folks died and let's just say Paddy Conlon wasn’t the worst kinda person for a kid to live with.” She blew out a breath, then gently cupped Tommy’s chin and angled his face, studying his cuts and bruises.  
“Somebody hurt you?” he asked, pulling away from her fingertips and dropping his arms to his sides.  
“Just leave it, Tommy,” she said. She moved to the storage cabinet and pulled out the first-aid kit, then nudged a chair with her foot. “Sit.”  
He slouched into the chair, leg bouncing with pent-up nerves or leftover agitation. Cyn dabbed his bleeding eyebrow with an alcohol swab. His brows twitched, but he otherwise gave no indication that he felt the sting. She cleaned his face and put a butterfly bandage across his eyebrow, then bent to examine his busted lip. She'd wiped away the blood, but winced in sympathy at the sight of the bruised gash at the corner of his mouth.  
“That looks pretty deep,” she said, lightly probing his skin. She was focused on her work, trying to figure out how to fix him up, so when his warm fingers wrapped around her wrist, she jumped.  
“You scared of me?”  
“No. Why would I be?”  
He chewed the inside of his cheek, nodding absently. He cocked his head to the side and gave a jerk of his chin. “Why you doin' this?”  
“Cleaning you up?” She was confused and not really sure where he was going with this conversation.  
“No. Why you bothering with me at all? Job, house...why you give a shit whether or not I go to prison?”  
“I don't know.” She shrugged, quietly cleared her throat. “You caught a tough break. And when we were kids, when my folks died and we…” She sighed, waving her hands as she tried to think of what to say. “I needed somebody and you were there. You helped me through a tough time back then.”  
“Ain’t been kids in a long time.” His thumb stroked the inside of her wrist, the calloused pad scraping over her frantic pulse.  
She swallowed and looked away from his haunted blue gaze, shrugging one shoulder again. “I guess I just want to see you be okay.”  
Her phone rang, shattering the awkward silence. She dug it out of her back pocket, frowning at the unfamiliar number. “Hello?”  
“Cyn?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Hey, it’s Brendan. Brendan Conlon. How are ya?”  
“Oh!” She looked at Tommy, watching his expression. “I’m good, Brendan. How are you?”  
Tommy sighed and moved to finish up the last few dishes.  
“I’m good,” Brendan said. “Doing good. Listen, Chuck gave me your number, and I’m sorry for calling so late, but I haven’t heard from Tommy in a few days, so I was wondering if he was around.”  
“He is.” She moved toward him, but he glanced over his shoulder and shook his head. “He’s elbow-deep in dirty dishes right now, though. Want me to have him call you tomorrow?”  
Brendan, thankfully, didn’t press the issue. “Yeah. I was gonna see if he wanted to come down this weekend. Tess and I, we’re having a barbecue. Weather’s supposed to be nice and the girls, they’re climbing the walls to play with some water guns Frank bought for ‘em, so…yeah, just have him call, huh?”  
“I will.”  
“How’s, uh…how’s he doing?”  
“Really good,” she said, studying the tense set of Tommy’s shoulders. “He’s pretty handy to have around.” He whipped his head up and she smiled.  
“Good,” Brendan said, relief evident in his voice. “All right, I’ll let you get back to it. Just, uh…just have him give me a call. Oh, and Tess says make sure you know you can come too. Saturday, I mean.”  
“Thank you. I’ll have him call you. It’s good to hear from you, Brendan.”  
“Yeah, you too. We’ll see you this weekend, hopefully.”  
“We’ll see. G’night.”  
She tucked her phone away and leaned against the edge of the sink. “Brendan wants to know—”  
“No.”  
“You can’t say no yet. I haven’t told you—”  
“He’s been after me to do some family picnic or some shit,” he said, hanging up the sprayer and picking up a drying towel, “and you’ve got that look in your eye, so ya put both those things together and I know the answer is no.”  
“Fine. I’ll go by myself.”  
“Have fun.”  
“I will.” She fidgeted with the sprayer as she spoke, smiling sweetly. “I’m gonna go eat someone else’s cooking and watch some kids play, and you can have the whole apartment to yourself to brood in.” She flicked the lever on the sprayer, shooting a little burst of droplets at him. He looked up from his drying, unamused, and she sighed. “Just tell me you’ll think about it? Lie if you have to.”  
He watched her back toward the door that led to the stairs, and one corner of his mouth lifted. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cyn sees a glimpse of the old Tommy and comes to a startling revelation.

It took some doing, but Tommy actually agreed to go see Brendan. He was still sporting a slight bruise on his eyebrow, but nothing too noticeable. The drive had been nice, occasional conversation interspersed with companionable silence. 

Brendan and Tess had welcomed them warmly, taking them straight to the back yard, Cyn sitting in a chair on the deck while Brendan and Tommy fussed with the grill. The kids played like wildlings. Cyn had accompanied them inside long enough to fill up water blasters and little squirt guns.

“You can have this one,” Emily said, passing her a neon orange pistol. She leaned close. “I’m gonna get my daddy in a little bit, when he’s not looking.”

She laughed when the little girls ran circles around Tommy and the little one, Rosie, threw herself around his legs and shimmied up to use him as her very own jungle gym. It was the first time since he’d been around that Cyn could remember seeing a smile reach his eyes, but as he curled and twirled the girl around his shoulders, she shrieked in delight and he looked happy. He helped the girls refill their guns with a water hose that sat coiled near the grill, then returned to his conversation with Brendan, not quite as relaxed, but still pleasant enough.

Tess drew her from her observation. “What happened to his eye? Is he fighting again?”

“No,” she rushed to assure her. “There was a little bit of trouble outside the diner the other night. Tommy handled it. It’s no big deal.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“The kind that would’ve ended really bad for me if he hadn’t stepped in.” Tess nodded, but Cyn gnawed the inside of her cheek worriedly. “Don’t…don’t tell Brendan. I don’t think Tommy would want him worrying about it coming out next hearing.” 

Tess canted her head, eyes solemn. “You have feelings for him, don’t you?”

“What?”

“You’re falling in love with him. With Tommy.”

Cyn sputtered a denial, shaking her head and forcing a laugh as she took a drink of beer. “You’re nuts, man.”

Tess settled back against her chair and looked away, scanning the yard. “You saying you’re not?”

Cyn sighed and sat her beer down, scraping at the label with her thumbnail. “Shit, Tess. I dunno.” She lifted her eyes to see him watching her, and she offered him a soft smile. “Yeah, probably.”

“He’s made a lot of progress since Sparta. He doesn’t need somebody screwing with that. And I’ll be frank, I don’t think he needs to start anything up with you, considering.”

“Considering what, exactly?”

“Considering your history,” Tess said. “You two ran together right before everything went to shit with Paddy and their mom. And me and Brendan might not’ve been around all the time, but we were around enough to see what was going on after your folks died. You really think it’s a good idea to start up a relationship with associations like that?”

Cyn frowned and Tess matched her, staring unflinchingly. Cyn wanted to lash out, to say something mean, but dammit, Tess wasn’t trying to be a bitch. She was genuinely concerned about Tommy.

And dammit even more, she made a lot of sense.

Brendan approached, grill tongs dangling from his fingers. “Pass me that platter, will you?” he asked Tess. He looked between them and he arched a brow. “What’s got you two looking so happy?”

“Nothin’,” Tess said, winking at her husband and leaning over the rail for a kiss. “Just girl stuff.”

He grunted as if he didn’t quite believe her. He opened his mouth to speak, but Emily chose that moment to blast him with a stream of cold water to the middle of his back. He feinted, chasing the girl and snapping the tongs as her laughter carried on the wind.

“Uncle Tommy told me to!”

Cyn took the distraction to leave the porch, not really in the mood for anymore girl-bonding. She tucked her hands in her back pockets and strolled over to Tommy, who was leaning casually against a tree.

“Orchestrating a hit squad, huh?”

“Seemed like you could use the diversion,” he said.

“You and Tess looked like you were about to throw down. What’s that about?”

She shook her head. “Just talking.”

“About what?”

“This and that,” she said with a shrug. She pulled out her little gun and squirted a narrow stream to his chest. He looked down at the small wet stain, then back up at her, eyes narrowing.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish,” he said quietly.

“I’m not scared of you, Tommy Conlon.” Still, she backed away, gun pointed. When he pushed away from the tree, she pumped the plastic trigger frantically, lashing him with spits of water. Laughing, she turned to run, only to have the laugh catch in her throat when he caught her arm and bent to pick up the water hose. “Don’t you da—ack!”

Cold water exploded from the nozzle, soaking her legs. Tommy’s lips twitched and he pulled her close. His eyes sparkled in a way that reminded her of the happy kid he’d once been. Her gaze wandered to his mouth and she chewed her bottom lip, wondering what it’d be like if he kissed her.

The moment was ruined when he gave her another blast with the hose, this time across her stomach. She shrieked and struggled for the nozzle, effectively soaking them both. His nieces joined the fight, firing their blasters from the sidelines. Tommy let her go, running to scoop Rosie up and hold her in front of him so that she could have better chance at hitting Cyn. He held the water hose like a side arm, throwing occasional bursts of water at her feet or up in the air so the drops fell on Emily.

Cyn wasn’t sure how long they played with the girls—actually played like children—but eventually a shrill whistle cut through the din and they all looked toward the deck. Brendan had finished grilling and the table was set. At some point Rosie had switched sides, leaving Tommy’s side to ride piggyback on Cyn. Emily walked next to Tommy, chattering away as they made their way to the deck.

If she’d had any doubts about her feelings before that moment, watching him listen to the girl as if everything she said was important to him erased them. She was one-hundred percent falling in love with Tommy Conlon. She sat Rosie on the steps and met Tess’s gaze. Tess gave her an almost imperceptible look, a fleeting flash of sympathetic understanding. 

Tommy’s hand at her back urged her up the steps, so she pasted a smile on her face and went up to dinner.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cyn remembers hard times, and how Tommy helped her through them.

“What time you wanna leave in the morning?”

Cyn looked over at Tommy, who was leaning against the doorjamb of the guest room. “I thought I might go to 8 o’clock Mass around the corner. You in a hurry?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders and stepped inside. “Just ready to get back home. There’s some stuff I need to take care of.”

“Okay. We’ll leave around seven then, get you back early afternoon.”

He was solemn again, and she wanted to weep at the loss of joy she’d experienced in him earlier. When he simply stood in front of her, not speaking, she cleared her throat. 

“I making you nervous?” The corners of his mouth curved slightly in challenge.

“No. Why?”

“You always clear your throat when things get quiet. Nervous tick.”

She scoffed. “I don’t have a nervous tick.” He stared, stony faced, and she cleared her throat again. “Dammit.”

He flashed a grin, there and gone so fast she nearly missed it. “Told you.”

“Jerk.” She chuckled, reaching out to lightly punch his arm. Oh, Jesus, she’d just given the classic schoolyard I-like-you-but-I-don’t-know-what-I’m-doing treatment, like she might’ve been in third grade.

He stepped closer, lifting a hand to her cheek. He trailed his fingertips along her jaw and around to cup the back of her neck and draw her to him. “Know what I think?”

She opened her mouth to croak a response from her suddenly-dry throat, but got sidetracked when she looked at his lips. Instead, she puffed out a quiet sigh and shook her head.

“I think I do make you nervous. Because every time I touch you, your heart rate ratchets up.” He dragged his thumb over to rest in the little hollow of her throat and leaned his head closer to hers. “Wonder why that is?”

“Just naturally high-strung, I guess,” she breathed.

Whatever it was that was happening between them was sensual in nature, from the light stroke of his thumb to the gentle twist of his mouth. Cyn went up on tiptoes and planted her lips firmly against his, wrapping her arms around his neck. Tommy dropped his hands to her hips and straightened, holding her tight. He angled his head and opened his mouth, tongue darting out to greet hers.

Cyn poured herself into the kiss. It had been a long time—a really long time—since she’d been kissed like this. She grunted and sighed when Tommy's arms tightened around her, and she smiled against his tongue.

“Hey, Cyn? I got you some extra—oh. Uh…”

She shoved away from Tommy like he was on fire, blushing furiously at being discovered making out like a horny teenager by Brendan. She cleared her throat, then threw a look at Tommy that dared him to call her on it. He cut his eyes at her, but remained silent, tucking his hands in his pockets as he observed his brother. She took the blankets Brendan held and mumbled her thanks. 

“Well, uh, good night.” His smile was more an embarrassed grimace, but he nodded to her and Tommy and left quickly.

“Brendan, man,” Tommy said, shaking his head. “See he hasn’t lost the knack for showing up at inopportune moments.” He jerked his chin and a smile ghosted around his mouth. “You remember back in the day how he used to show up outta fuckin’ nowhere?”

“Yeah. Yes, I do. Very clearly.” Cyn plopped onto the side of the bed. “All those memories just sorta shot their way to the front of my mind, actually.”

Tommy sat beside her and sighed. “Fifteen years old. Jesus. Seems like a lifetime ago.”

“It was.” He looked at her, eyes dark and somber. She brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead under the guise of checking his bruised eyebrow. “Sneaking off to make out in the garage. The attic.” She chuckled. “And every damn time, boom, here comes Brendan. Jesus, or your old man. Thought he was gonna have a coronary the time he caught us in the Caddy. Lectured us for like two hours about getting pregnant and how I’d screw up your life. That one was fun.”

“Yeah, because he wasn’t already doing that or nothin’.” 

“They didn’t always find us,” she said quietly.

“Nah,” he said, voice soft and deep. “Not always.” He pinched her chin between thumb and forefinger, then stood and wiped his palms on the flannel pajama bottoms he’d had to borrow from Brendan after the water fight. “I’ll let you get to it,” he said with a wave toward the bed. “G’night, Cyn.”

She watched as he left and pulled the door shut, staring after him for a long moment, then fell back on the bed with an undignified groan. Maybe Tess was right. They had a shitload of history between them, a lot of unhappy times. But there were so many happy ones as well.

She thought about how Mrs. Conlon had always welcomed her in whenever her parents were working. She’d basically lived at the Conlon’s during the summer, even when Paddy would come home from work and get so drunk he couldn’t stand. Mrs. C had been the one to teach her to cook, not her own mom. She’d made sure she’d gotten through Basic Algebra without pulling her hair out.

Paddy hadn’t liked her being there—said she was a distraction to the boys. Ha.   
Brendan had spent every minute he could with Tess at her place, anything to get outta the house. And Tommy…hell, Tommy had been too hell-bent on wrestling and training to mind her. It wasn’t until the end of freshman year that he’d really paid her any attention at all, even though she’d been crushing on him since sixth grade. They’d swapped candy and cards and toys all their lives, she and the Conlon boys. When she was fourteen, she traded Tommy a Batman action figure for a kiss. Her first kiss. After that, they’d pretty much just assumed they could kiss whenever they wanted, sneaking off to anyplace that wasn’t populated. 

But when her parents had died the June she’d turned fifteen, she’d done all she could to rid herself of the pain their deaths had caused, stealing liquor from unwatched cabinets and buying pills from corner dealers. It wasn’t until Tommy had found her weaving in and out of consciousness on their back stoop that she’d been scared out of her stupor. He’d dragged her inside and Mrs. C. had called the foster family she’d been staying with, making excuses and telling them she was staying the weekend, salty tears slipping silently over the black eye she’d gotten the night before.

Tommy had skipped practice that night and she’d known it was gonna bring down all kinds of hell when Paddy got home, but it had been a Friday, she remembered, and he hadn’t come home after work. When she’d finally shaken the sluggishness, she and Tommy had sat in silence until she’d started crying again. Then he’d put his arms around her and held her, and she’d felt safe. 

She couldn’t remember who’d made the first move—probably her. But before long they’d been stretched out on his bed, lost in the feel of each other and, for her, blinded by the fog of young love. 

Two months later, Mrs. C and Tommy were gone.

Heaving a forlorn sigh, she stood and shucked her jeans and bra, folding them to wear the next day since she’d only brought one change of clothes and wouldn’t have been able to squeeze into anything of Tess’s without an exorbitant amount of lubrication. She crawled into bed and snuggled beneath the blanket, willing herself to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There be naughtiness ahead!

Monday had been busy, but Tommy had cleared out as soon as the last order was up, leaving Cyn and Lori to clean and close up. He’d been in a funk since they’d gotten back from Philly. Paddy had been in the diner today, so that probably hadn’t helped anything. While he’d made tremendous strides in his relationship with Brendan, things were still uncomfortable when he was around Paddy. 

When he’d left, he’d gone in Petey’s, a little dive bar across the street and a few doors down. She hoped he was still there and he hadn’t gone on some kind of bar crawl. Nothing good could come from that.

Petey’s was smoky and dark, but this time of night it wasn’t too busy. Some sports show played on a tube TV at the end of the bar and the handful of patrons looked like they spent most of their time on the worn stools that lined the bar. All but one.

Tommy sat hunched over a tumbler of amber liquid, staring moodily as if he’d find the answer to the universe at the bottom. He’d been there for over an hour. How many drinks had he had?

She sidled up beside him, offering a small smile. He cut his eyes at her, narrowed them, then went back to ignoring her.

“Who pissed in your Wheaties, Conlon? You’ve been in a shitty mood all day.”

“You don’t wanna get into it with me right now,” he warned.

“I just don’t think maybe this is the best place for you,” she said, eying his whiskey shot warily. “You’re not supposed to be drinking, remember?”

He stood and kicked the barstool, sending it sliding noisily across the floor, and then leaned close. “Do yourself a favor and leave me the fuck alone. For your own good.” He turned and slammed through the alley exit.

Her temper flared as she stared after him and she found herself following hot on his heels. “I’m not trying to fight with you, Tommy, but who exactly do you think you’re talking to?” The door squeaked shut behind her, locking with a loud click. The alley was empty and dark, the only light coming from the yellow street lamp at the end. “You’re having a bad day, and I’m sorry. But don’t think you can threaten me and I’ll be cool with that.”

He crossed to her in three strides. “I don’t give a fuck what you’re cool with,” he growled, gripping her arm tightly and jerking her closer. He pointed his finger in her face, his eyes wild. “You’re livin’ in the past, Cyn. Thinkin’ I’m still that boy you wanted to pop your cherry so you could backburner your feelings—”

The sound of the slap ricocheted off the brick walls around them. Cyn gasped. She stared at him, at the reddening imprint where her palm had made contact with his cheek. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, tentatively reaching out her stinging fingers. “Tommy, I—”

“Looks like you’re learning,” he said darkly. 

Tears threatened at the look in his eyes, and her throat was raw with emotion. “Learning what?”

“That kid, your friend? He’s dead and gone. I’m what’s left, and I’m an asshole.”

“You’re not,” she said.

“Oh no?” He gave her a little shake, then walked her backward, stalking like he was in the cage. Her back hit the wall and her eyes widened, but he closed in around her. “You’re scared. Pissed off. And me?” He let go her arm and snatched her hand, jerking it to the front of his jeans. “I’m so fucking hard for you I can barely function.” His head canted to the side. “What’s that make me if not a asshole?”

“I dunno. Don’t care.” Cyn’s breath stuck in her throat as she felt his body press hot and heavy against her palm. She reached up, cupped the back of his neck with her free hand, her thumb stroking his nape in attempt to soothe. She pulled his head close to hers, digging her fingertips into the back of his neck when he resisted. “You know better than most that life isn’t all sunshine and roses. It’s dark and dirty, and sometimes it causes more pain than we think we can take. But other times…” She stroked him, grinding the heel of her hand against him until his eyes closed and his hips arched ever so slightly. 

“Cyn…” His breath tickled her lips as she drew him closer. 

“Other times life can be good. Real good. Second chances are rare, Tommy, but you’ve been given one. And I really hope you take it.” She kissed him, the gentlest brush of lips that belied the ferocity with which she wanted him. 

His answering kiss, however, left nothing to question. His mouth was hungry on hers, tongue delving, teeth scraping. Cyn groaned, pleased to note that he didn’t taste like whiskey. She released him and pulled her hand out of his grasp, tangling her fingers in his short hair. He cupped her ass, lifting and using his hips to hold her up until she wrapped her thighs around him. He shoved her against the wall, mouth assaulting the sensitive skin of her throat. Cyn threw her head back to give him better access, pressing against him, rolling her hips and enjoying the friction it created at the juncture of her thighs. Her fingers delved beneath the neck of his t-shirt, flexing against the muscles that strained in his shoulders. 

Tommy hitched her higher, holding her up with one arm while he tugged her tank top up and over her breasts. She wore an open-front bra and he made short work of that, too, twisting with an expert flick of fingers. His eyes ate up her swaying breasts as they fell free.

“Your tits are a friggin’ gift to mankind,” he said, burrowing his face against her neck and nipping her flesh. His hand covered one breast, fingers teasing the sensitive tip. He dropped his hand to help support her ass and replaced his fingers with his lips, drawing a gasping moan from her. He drew hard on the hard peak, swirled his tongue, caught the tip with his teeth while watching her eyes close as she winced with pleasure and pain. It was a heady combination, and Cyn needed more.

“Take me home,” she panted. He jerked upright, chest rising and falling as he drew rapid breaths. She kissed him again. “Take me home, Tommy. Let’s go home.”

She wasn’t sure how, but they made it the half-block to the apartment. Her legs shook with each step, and not jittery shakes either, but tremors of anticipation. His fingers were warm twined with hers as she led him up the stairs that led to their apartment. The door hadn’t even closed before they were back at each other, clawing and pulling at clothes.

When he was naked and the little wisp of lace she called underwear easily ripped away, she stared openly at him. He wasn't as bulky as he’d been at Sparta, but the definition was still there. Her gaze flitted over the tattoos that covered his chest and shoulders, mouth watering to trace every line with her tongue. 

He pulled her to him, grunting when his cock burned across her stomach. She kicked open her bedroom door and backed toward the bed, taking him down with her when she fell. Tommy put his hands out and lowered himself on top of her, so much more in control now that he’d been in the alley. He hiked her thigh over his hip and slipped a hand between them, catching his bottom lip between his teeth when his fingers found her wet and waiting. 

“So hot,” he murmured, kissing her deeply. He swallowed her small cries of pleasure as he inserted a finger into her silken heat, then added another, pumping them with tantalizing slowness as the pad of his thumb stroked her clit. He pulled his hand away and slapped her ass, and Cyn was a little embarrassed at the desperate sound of her whimper as she writhed against him. He drew himself along the seam of her sex, and her hips arched, straining to get closer.

“Oh, god. Like that…”

He smiled, a genuine show of amusement. “You like that, Cyn?”

She growled, cupping his face and dragging him down for a kiss. “You need to be in me. Now.”

“I think maybe I’ll take my time,” he said, arching for another slow drag. It was taking a toll on him. She could see the sweat beading on his forehead and shoulders. “Because I am an asshole.”

“If that’s what you need to hear, then fine! You’re an asshole! A huge asshole!” She lifted her hips, locked her ankles around his lower back. “Fuck, you’re king of assholes, okay? Jesus, Tommy, just—”

His laugh was music to her, cutting through the frustration of needing him to fill her. It flowed through her, tangling around her heart, and she knew there was no going back for her. She loved him with all she had.

Tommy gave in, kissing her again and sinking into her with one smooth roll of hips. He pinned her wrists, fingers tangling with hers. His eyes closed against the feel of her gripping him. He breathed something, so soft that Cyn couldn’t make out the words, but the look of peace on his face entranced her. When he opened his eyes, they locked with hers. He withdrew slowly and plunged back with a soft exhalation. He abandoned one of her hands to scoop and arm behind her hips, changing angle, and Cyn squeezed his fingers, bringing her free hand to cling at his shoulder. 

Her world exploded in starburst and a stream of nonsensical affirmations as she came. Tommy gripped her hips and slammed into her before coming with a ragged groan. He caught himself as he fell, moving to roll to the side, but Cyn caught him by the shoulders and pulled him to collapse fully on top of her.

They didn’t speak. This wasn’t time for quips or cute statements. Her fingers played over his back as he nestled the valley between her breasts, getting comfortable. She felt him smile against her skin and felt her own lips curve in response. And she knew that whatever the future held for him, she’d be there too.   
Because Tommy Conlon had finally come home.


End file.
